


A Razor's Edge

by daredevilmoon



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, Mentions of Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1869762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daredevilmoon/pseuds/daredevilmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Do  you suppose I would try it again with you sitting watch?”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"Wouldn’t have thought you’d try it at all," Barrow said quickly, voice stretched taut. "Sir."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Razor's Edge

Edward had remained silent all the while Corporal Barrow had placed the lather on his face; it was slightly hypnotic, the majority of his senses so engaged in one thing - the circling paths of the brush, the smell of the shaving soap. No words fell between them as Barrow went about this business, which Edward no longer found odd; they’d found little to say in the days succeeding his abortive suicide.

Though Barrow did his practical duties, what he was doing was effectively keeping a watch on  Edward through the worst of it, when it came at night. It leant a solemnity to their encounters which set Edward’s teeth on edge, made him snap at the kindnesses; he deserved many things, but kindness was not amongst them.

The brush left him and a series of soft clacks and scraping sounds rose from the side table rose and fell quickly to silence. He felt Barrow’s fingers touch along the line of his jaw, turning his head slightly away from him. He felt a sort of unwellness rise in him and after the first stroke of the razor was safely finished, he jerked himself away from Barrow’s grip.

"I can do it myself, you know," Edward snapped.

"Plenty of gentlemen have their valets shave them," Barrow responded, apparently unaffected by the outburst. His fingers brushed Edward’s jaw again and he turned his head away abruptly.

"Well, I’m not among them. I must do some things for myself or there’s no point at all, I’ll need to reply on people for everything."

"I don’t think it’s a good idea, sir. Not just now."

"Do  you suppose I would try it again with you sitting watch?”

"Wouldn’t have thought you’d try it at all," Barrow said quickly, voice stretched taut. "Sir."

Edward had nothing to say to that; he hadn’t thought himself that sort, either, never before. He’d never been a particularly care-free soul but he’d found his joys and his pleasures all the same; now, he could see no future in that. Could see nothing but the blackness and images of the trenches playing again and again.  He was crueller now, too, and could find no shame in it. If god himself had chosen to be cruel to Edward surely the rest could manage it from a cripple who brokered no threat but to himself.

"Haven’t any of the men got a safety razor? You could watch me and take it away after. I have to try, Corporal Barrow, mustn’t I? I have to do things, haven’t I? I have to try."

"I - " He heard the waiver in the voice over the sentiment he had put forth before Barrow restarted. "I’ll see if I can fetch one. Won’t be a moment."

Edward heard the footsteps fade down the ward and reached over to the side table. He felt the dish for the soap, a glass of water, a book he couldn’t read.

He hadn’t been going to try again, he assured himself, resting his hands in his lap, running the opposite thumb against the bandages over his left wrist. He was only going to worry it, run the smooth flat of the blade over his fingertips to feel the cool of it. He blinked and felt a band of dread tighten about his chest and he gasped quietly at the suddenness of its constriction.

"Lieutenant Courtenay, sir, are you all right?"

"Just - a headache. It’s passed," Edward managed, pleased at the steadiness of his voice.

"Do you feel up to going on with this?"

"Yes, Corporal Barrow," he said, this time the words corroded by the bile risen at the softness of the other’s request. He heard Barrow sit once more, but said nothing; he hated the feeling that he was being appraised without being able to tell. "May I have the razor now?"

One of Barrow’s hands came beneath Edward’s, the other pressing the handle into his palm, still warm from Barrow’s touch. He manoeuvred it  into the correct position and tentatively reached his free hand up to pull the skin of his cheek taut. With a soft stroke, he pulled it down successfully to his jaw, whereupon he must have flinched, or some equally  asinine thing, because he cut himself at its curve.

"Shit - "

"It’s quite all right, sir. Loads of men can still see do that," Barrow quickly reassured.

"Just - " that dread was back and tighter now, squeezing forth a horrific panic, and he shoved the handle into Barrow’s direction, "take the damned thing, I clearly can’t manage it."

The end of his words had been met by a hiss as the razor was taken away; he must have pressed the blade into  Barrow’s hand.  The panic ebbed some with guilt.

"I’m - "

"Don’t worry yourself, sir."

"I shouldn’t have gotten so upset," Edward admitted awkwardly. "After all, what’s another scar to a face like mine?"

"I’ll put a styptic to your cut, all right?" Barrow asked, quietly; Edward felt the tell-tale little burn. "There we are. Give us a minute to put a bandage round me and I’ll finish shaving you, if  you’d like, sir."

Another wordless moment extended, Edward listening to the rustling of uniform and bandages and the steady sound of Barrow’s breathing. He wondered, not for the first time, what Barrow looked like; all he could picture was a uniform moving in the dark. How terrible to never know.

How terrible to be so hideously unkind to Barrow.

"These ones are awkward," Barrow said after a long moment. "These safety razors. Do you mind if I sit alongside you?"

Edward shook his head; he couldn’t bring himself to speak, didn’t know what his voice would sound like just then. His bed sank and he felt the slight press of Barrow’s forearm against his shoulder as he made quick work of the rest of the lather on the close side of his face, then the way their chests nearly touched when he did the other side.

Heat emanated from Barrow, the scent of the blood of his hand close to Edward’s face, cigarettes, sweat - Edward doubted he himself gave off anything but the sterile pungency of a patient. He seemed barely a person now; his only allowance to that was Barrow’s touch against his cheeks and jaw, the only worthwhile reminder.  
  
Edward brought one of his hands to Barrow’s hair; he felt Barrow freeze up beneath him for a moment - just a moment - before he resumed his work along Edward’s throat. He carded his fingers through the thick hair, down to his neck, running his fingers along his jaw. His thumb stroked over Barrow’s soft lips, traced their outline.

"I’m so sorry," Edward murmured.

"Don’t," Barrow implored in a voice barely even a whisper; Edward only knew for certain that he’d spoken for the breath against his skin.

"I’m so sorry," Edward repeated, voice breaking. He started to tremble slightly against the threat of tears, before he’d lost that battle, too. He brought a hand over his eyes instinctively.

Barrow shifted away from him briefly, replacing the the razor on the table, before he shifted back and let Edward rest his forehead against his shoulder as he was wracked with sobs - for everything. Everything he’d lost and what he was now losing against.

After what seemed like ages, he felt Barrow’s arms come around his waist tentatively, holding him in a way Edward would only have allowed him. More than that, needed - needed Barrow’s arms around him, the steadiness of his breathing against Edward’s own ragged gasps.

He ran his hand over Barrow’s jaw again, finding his lips with his thumb and pressing a soft kiss against them. “I’m sorry,” he said once more, feeling mouth beneath his own as he spoke, a tired little sigh.

"You’re all right," Barrow said, guiding Edward’s head back to his shoulder. He wasn’t, but Barrow pressed a brief kiss against his ear, he thought, for the first in a long while, that, perhaps, he could be.


End file.
